


Ordinary Day

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bookstores, Drabbles, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Holidays, Love at First Sight, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Original Character - Freeform, POV Multiple, Pets, Photographer Clarke, Prompt Fic, Single dad Bell, Thanksgiving Dinner, Tumblr Prompt, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, for now at least, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of modern one-shots for Bellamy and Clarke's first meeting, based on requested prompts from awful-aus.tumblr.com</p><p>For <strong>heiliofthehundred</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three's Company

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heiliofthehundred](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=heiliofthehundred).



> Thank you for introducing me to this awesome tumblr!! there were so many fun prompts on there, I picked three after much debate. I'm also challenging myself to keep them somewhat drabble-length haha, let's see how long that lasts. Hope you enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Alright listen here buddy, I’m your neighbor and I get that us twenty-somethings are supposed to stick together, but I swear to God if I hear the theme song to that show one more time I will shove the entirety of Netflix up your ass. It’s been twenty-seven hours, have you even showered?”

Clarke didn’t bother changing out of her paint-splattered tank top and the pajama pants decorated with easels before marching over to her new neighbor’s door. She completely ignored her frizzy hair, letting it remain the wild bird's nest it was atop her head. Her knuckles rapped on the chestnut-colored wood, loud in the still of morning.

To her surprise, the door opened almost instantly. She’d been expecting some hesitation, or potentially even some questions, but the guy standing in front of her looked almost as sleep-deprived as she did. In sweats and an old college tee-shirt, his curly dark hair rumpled beyond saving, he couldn’t have been more than 25 or 26.

“Everything okay?” He asked worriedly.

It took her a moment to recover from the fact that he was asking after _her_ well-being, seeing as she was the one who’d come over to give him a piece of her mind. As far as first instincts went, that was rather sweet… _Focus, Clarke!_

“No, everything is _not_ okay.” She folded her arms in front of her chest, remembering the source of her irritation. “Look, I’m your neighbor, and I get that us twenty-somethings are supposed to stick together, but I swear to god if I hear the theme song to that show one more time I will shove the entirety of Netflix up your ass.” 

As she spoke, his eyes widened further and further until it was nearly comical. Or it would have been, if she hadn’t been dying to get some sleep. “It’s been twenty-seven hours, have you even showered?” She hissed.

Whatever response her neighbor might have given, she’d never know, because at that moment a small cry split the air. Alarm flared on his face and he completely ignored Clarke, rushing back down the hall. A moment later, she heard soothing whispers and quiet shushing.

That was followed by, “I’m here, sweetheart, daddy’s right here,” and her heart dropped into her stomach, her anger quickly melting away. 

_Oh my god._

She stood there for a long moment, realizing just how badly she’d misjudged the situation. Since he’d left the door open in his haste, she made a quick decision and stepped inside, carefully easing it shut before proceeding down the hall barefoot. When she rounded the corner, he was standing next to a huge crib in the living room, a small bundle in his arms. His eyes locked onto her as soon as she entered the room, but he continued talking in hushed tones to the child, swaying back and forth.

The breath left her in a rush, and any lingering irritation evaporated on the spot. Clarke looked around, noting the pillow and neatly folded blankets and on the couch that was clearly serving as his bed at the moment. A laptop sat on the floor, hooked up to the TV, where yet another episode of Three’s Company was playing.

“She seems to like the show.” Her neighbor’s low voice made her turn as he gently laid his now sleeping daughter back in the crib. “I don’t know if it’s the song, or John Ritter, or what, but it’s the only thing she’ll fall asleep to. I just sort of let it play through since there’s like a thousand episodes.” He paused, then scratched his neck with a large hand. “Look, I’m sorry if it got too loud, but this is the only room with a TV, and I can't fit the crib into my bedroom, so-”

“No, no, forget all that. It’s not a big deal.” Clarke waved a hand in dismissal, suddenly earnest. It really wasn't that bad, now that she knew he wasn't some moron who'd been just doing it for shits and giggles. Hesitantly, she inched closer to the crib. At his small nod, she leaned over the side, staring at the sleeping child in wonder. “How old is she?”

“Eight months, six days, and about five hours,” he grinned fondly, and she found herself returning it as he lightly traced the line of her tiny toes.

“She’s beautiful,” Clarke said softly. “Although… I’m afraid she’s got your ears.”

He stared, then barked out a surprised laugh. “Ah, damn. She’s ruined for life now.” Clarke giggled with him, glad he hadn’t taken her teasing personally. He held out a tanned arm. “I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Bellamy, and this little one is Rory.”

She smiled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Clarke. That’s a good name. Rory, I mean,” she added, blushing slightly. “Not that yours isn’t, I mean-” His smile widened, and she tripped over her words once more. _Get a grip, Griffin._ “So, uh, did you pick that name for her?”

He let her off the hook easily. “Actually it was my sister’s idea. It’s short for Aurora.” He paused, then added, ”It was my mom’s name.”

“It’s lovely,” she replied honestly. He beamed in thanks. Clarke glanced around again, trying not to be too obvious, but knew she’d been caught when Bellamy raised an expectant eyebrow. Swallowing, she asked, “So it’s just you two?”

He gave a brisk nod. “Yep. Just me and my best girl.” Then he grinned. “Well, don’t let my sister hear that. She’s my _other_ best girl, you know.” Clarke smiled at that. “But yeah, it’s just us. Octavia comes around now and then to help out when she can, but it’s tough since she’s in grad school at the moment. She’s going to be a teacher soon.”

“That’s wonderful.” Before she could stop herself, Clarke found herself saying, “You know, if you ever need anything, I’m right next door.” At his surprised glance, she rushed on. “I just- I’m home a lot, since I have a studio set up in my apartment, so I’m usually there. And my classes are a mix of online and evening, so…” She didn’t even know why she was telling him all this. “Anyways, just, you know. If you need a hand, don’t hesitate.”

Bellamy stared at her for a long moment before smiling and nodding. “Thanks, Clarke. I really appreciate that.”

“Of course. Well, I’ll let you get back to… what exactly were you doing, if you weren’t sleeping?” She waved a hand at the apartment in general, and he chuckled. 

“Attempting to clean up, not that you can really tell. I’m not normally like this. Usually everything has its place and all. But between Rory and bills and schoolwork, it just wasn’t a priority the past few days, and now…” he gestured helplessly. “It’s been driving me insane all week.”

The words flew out without thinking. “Do you want some help?” Ignoring her sudden nerves, she added, “I don’t mind sticking around, if you want. I mean, if you need an extra set of eyes, or hands, or something.”

She also kind of didn’t want to go just yet.

After a silent minute in which she silently berated herself for intruding so hastily, Bellamy’s face split into a wide grin. “That’d be wonderful,” he replied gratefully.

Which was how Clarke absently found herself singing along to the latest refrain of _come and knock on our door…_ two hours later. She jumped and blushed as Bellamy’s smiling voice repeated the next line in her ear - _we’ve been waiting for you._

Maybe the song wasn’t so bad after all.


	2. Modern-day Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been waiting for two weeks for this book to be returned to the library but it still isn’t back so I waited until all the librarians were distracted and I got your address from their computer system, hand over the book” AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another drabble, more fluff, I just couldn't resist.

Clarke was not expecting the knock on her door at 8p.m. on a Saturday night.

Especially seeing as she’d just hopped out of the shower and gotten comfy in her oversized blue shirt emblazoned with the words _Too Hot - Hot Damn_ on the front (thank you, Raven) and little else. She decided to ignore it, seeing as she was ready to curl up in bed with Netflix and the solid pint of Phish Food that had been calling her name since Wednesday. Whoever it was would just have to go away.

Except they didn’t. And the knocking continued, becoming more persistent by the minute.

_Seriously?_ Clarke grumbled and tugged on her red little sleep shorts, shaking out her wet hair a little vehemently as she strode down the hall barefoot. _Who the hell is outside my door at this hour?_

Rising to her tiptoes, she looked through the peephole to find a young guy standing outside. He couldn’t be more than a couple years older than her, and the dark curls that dropped over his sharply angled face were just begging to be mussed up even more by her hands. He was gorgeous, there was no denying that. _I guess there could be worse things…_

“Can I help you?” She called.

“Depends.” His voice was incredibly deep - and also incredibly irritated, at the moment. “Are you Clarke Griffin?”

Not liking the tone, she shot back, “Depends. Who’s asking?”

Because she was still peeking through the tiny circle, she saw him roll his eyes. “Come on, could you please open the door? I swear I’m not some creeper. I just want this book of yours.”

“Because that’s not weird at all,” she replied loudly.

That got a smirk out of him. He ran a hand through his dark locks, the motion making the muscles of his arm flex all too appealingly. She clenched her hands into fists until her nails bit into her palm. She was _not_ attracted to him. Not at all.

“Please,” he said again. “Look. My name is Bellamy Blake. I live on 1524 Woodrow Drive, Apartment C, alright?” That wasn’t too far from here. “I swear, I really just need this book, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

It was her curiosity that got the best of her. With a sigh, Clarke opened the door. Bellamy - _okay, that was a beautiful name_ \- brightened a little in surprise, and then - _oh._ He gave her one hell of a long onceover, his eyes wandering unashamedly, and when he looked back up he seemed to be a little speechless. Clarke gulped and pressed one barefoot atop the other, bouncing on her heels a little.

“What book?” She asked curiously. At his blank stare, she hid her smile. “You said you needed a book I have…” she elaborated, and his eyes widened.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, it’s the special edition of _Pride and Prejudice,_ you know, the anniversary edition where they redid the cover and made someone write a forward to declare that it’s still great and stuff.”

His tone was slightly mocking, but it seemed to be more so at the idea of anniversary editions in general.

She reeled back a little at the specificity of the request all the same. “And how exactly do you know with such certainty that I have it?”

Bellamy rubbed his neck. “Look, I’ve been waiting two weeks for this book to be returned to the library, but it still isn’t back and today was the due date. So I waited until all the librarians were distracted and I got your address from their computer system.”

“I… um…” Clarke didn’t know whether to be impressed or outraged. It might have been a little bit of both. “You seriously got into their patron information? I thought that stuff was like on lockdown or something.”

“Well, not _me,”_ he clarified sheepishly. “My friend, he’s good at that sort of thing.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Hacking?”

“Helping out his friends,” he ground out. “Look, just hand over the book, will you?”

Clarke crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “So you’re telling me, you came to my apartment at 8p.m. on a Saturday night to retrieve this specific copy of _Pride and Prejudice?_ Why, exactly?”

Bellamy must have realized he wasn’t getting out of there without an explanation, because he sighed. “This is going to sound crazy, okay? But, I lost a bet with my sister and she made me write my phone number in this book.” 

Clarke’s delight only grew as she watched him run a hand through his hair again. It seemed to be an anxious gesture of his, one he was barely aware of. 

He continued, “The deal was, I had to let at least one person check it out _and_ return it before I could scratch the number out. Octavia was very specific about that part. Anyways, I really don’t want to have to go through the hassle of getting a new phone, so can I _please_ have the book now?”

Clarke’s mouth dropped open as the giggles burst out. “Oh my god!” She squealed. _”You’re_ the 902 area code?”

“Unfortunately.”

She laughed again. “Can I ask just one more question?” Bellamy swept his arm out as if to say, _why not._ “Why this book in particular?”

“It’s been my sister’s favorite story ever since she was young. And since I lost the bet, she got to choose the book.”

"Your sister's got great taste." She grinned. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to do more than just scratch your number out, though?" She asked. Her suspicions were confirmed when his eyes glinted - in both approval and mischief.

"Payback's a bitch," was all he said.

Clarke shook her head, fighting another smile, and held up her finger. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” She rushed to her room and grabbed the book, then impulsively took her phone off the dresser as well. Bellamy’s eyes latched onto the book in her hand as soon as she reappeared in the doorway. 

But first, Clarke held up her phone. “Read this,” she instructed.

She watched his eyebrows draw together, puzzled, as he leaned closer to do as she said. Then his eyes lit up, crinkling adorably at the corners. A huge grin overtook his face as he read the screen. _Any chance you’re a modern-day Mr. Darcy?_

“That’s my number,” he said, slightly in awe.

She nodded. “It is.”

“And that’s the text you sent? I never got it.”

“The text I was _debating_ sending,” she corrected, then handed the book over with a shy grin. “I hadn’t exactly decided whether I should.”

Bellamy laughed, clearly pleased. “And now?” 

She shrugged. “Still not sure. Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

He grinned again, lopsided and sweet. “If Darcy can wait, so can I,” he murmured, and she flushed and ducked her head, trying not to curl her toes as her skin overheated.

“Good night, Bellamy.”

“Night, Clarke.” Still smiling, he hopped down the stairs, whistling to himself.

Clarke managed to last all of five minutes before sending a new text. _Still waiting, Darcy?_

She chewed on her bottom lip, jumping when the phone buzzed almost instantly. _Come and see for yourself._

Confused, she stared at the screen for a moment longer before realizing what he meant. Grinning foolishly, she went to her window and pushed aside the curtain to find Bellamy standing on the sidewalk, grinning back.


	3. Romance Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been coming to the bookstore for the last few days in a row to mooch some of their books for a research paper I’m writing and I’ve noticed you have been here every single day standing by the shitty romance novels and I can’t tell if you’re hitting on the women that shop those books or if you’re trying to shame them for reading them” AU

The fourth day Clarke returned to the bookstore, this time to poke around their medical technology section for that god-awful research paper, the boy was there again. He was standing in the same spot he’d been in for the past three days, and she almost would have thought he he hadn’t moved at all except that he was wearing different clothes.

He was impossible to miss, all tall dark and imposing with hopelessly gorgeous bone structure that made her fingers itch. A simple black tee shirt and jeans had never been so appealing in her life. Dark aviators hung from the collar of his shirt. He was also standing smack in the middle of the shitty romance novel section, and though _many_ a woman had passed by him, he’d only returned their glances with a faintly mocking smile of his own - a fact that made her even more curious about him.

It was kind of hard not to stare, as she’d found out on the first day. She was only there because the library was constantly out of the books she needed for her semester-long research paper, and so she kept coming into the bookstore to sit in a corner and thumb through the texts without actually having to buy them, being the broke grad student she was.

Though lately, she hadn’t been reading so much as peeking over said book to stare at the handsome boy in the romance section. 

She was trying very hard not to be obvious, but she figured having the same girl come in three days in a row to sit in between the stacks nearby wasn’t exactly the inconspicuous look she was going for. She was proven right when, upon her third peek of the morning, she found his molten eyes staring right back.

She blushed immediately at being caught, which only lead to him smiling, and now she _really_ couldn’t look away because _hot damn._ With a gulp, she swallowed her nerves and gripped her book a little tighter.

“Are you ever planning on buying one of those books?” she asked, smirking. “Or are you just going to try to will them into your palm?”

He chuckled and hung his head, acknowledging her point with a fake hat tip. “I could ask you the same,” he replied after a moment. “Seeing as you’ve had your face buried in those books but haven’t bought a single one, I can only imagine you’re a speed-reader or not actually reading at all.”

Clarke stuck out her tongue. “I’ll have you know I’m doing very important research,” she declared. So what if that research was maybe not the school-related kind?

A dark eyebrow lifted. “Oh really?” He lounged against the stacks, hands in his pockets. “Do tell, princess.”

“Princess?” She scrunched her nose until he pointed at her sparkly red flats, which seemed particularly bright in contrast to her dark jeans and worn-out college hoodie.

“Wasn’t Dorothy a princess?” He asked.

Clarke grinned, realizing what he meant. “No, she wasn’t,” she admitted. “But she totally should have been. She had all the companions for it and everything.”

“My sister always says that too,” he replied. Then he pushed off the shelf, walking over in a few long strides, and held out a hand. “I’m Bellamy.”

“Clarke.” She put her hand in his, squeaking when he used it to pull her to her feet. Overbalancing, she tumbled into his chest - his very firm, broad chest, oh god - feeling his hands settle on her hips for a moment until she was sure not to tip over again. When she'd regained her breath, she reluctantly stepped back and met his amused gaze. “So now will you tell me why you’re in that awful romance section, if it’s not to pick up chicks?”

His mouth quirked in amusement, lips puckering a little. Shit, she could kiss the hell out of those. 

“Is that what you thought I was doing?”

She shrugged. “Seemed to be the only alternative aside from you actually _liking_ them, in which case we’re going to have to stop talking right now.”

Bellamy laughed and nodded, then murmured, “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

Despite herself, Clarke blushed a little. His eyes lingered, not missing a single detail, before he motioned for her to follow. Their shoulders brushed as they walked back to the books. She narrowed her eyes at all the partially clothed damsels in distress on the cover, surrounded by half-naked men that she assumed were supposed to be hunky but just looked rather derpy to her. Bellamy followed her glance, chuckling again at the annoyed look on her face.

“Believe me, I concur,” he said instantly. Clarke couldn’t exactly hide her relief. “It’s a gag gift, for my sister,” he explained. “I always get her two gifts for her birthday, one thing she actually wants and one thing she’d never want, and this fits the latter.”

She clapped her hands in surprise. “That’s perfect! Can I help you pick one?”

Bellamy spread his arms out. “Be my guest, princess.”

Clarke rolled her eyes but stepped forward, tapping her chin thoughtfully as her eyes wandered over the many, many books. When you looked at them as a joke, it actually became kind of fun. 

Curious, she asked, “What was the actual gift?”

“A book detailing the Seven Wonders of the World, and a map so she could start to pin the places she makes it to and where she wants to go next.” He smiled fondly. “She’s always wanted to travel, ever since we were young. Can’t stay in one place for very long.”

“That’s incredible. Good for her. I’m more of a creature of habit,” Clarke admitted.

“Me too,” he agreed. “I keep telling her she’s only allowed to go if she promises to come back and stay for good eventually. But we’ll see, I guess.”

“Is she going alone, or with friends?”

“Boyfriend, actually.” For a moment, Bellamy’s face tightened in that slight protective way that only a big brother’s could, before easing into acceptance. “I’m just glad she has someone.”

Clarke nodded and turned back to the books, snorting when her eyes caught onto one particularly ridiculous cover of a girl wearing a cowboy hat and a sad excuse for a dress as she stared longingly at the half-naked man atop a horse. “You have got to be kidding me. How is this even a thing?” 

“Beats the hell outta me. Oh god, look at this one.” He picked up a small paperback that was apparently a Nascar-themed romance. “I’m kind of saddened by the fact that there’s an entire section of these.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I can feel my IQ dropping already.”

That got a bark of laughter out of him. Then he glanced at the thick scientific textbook in her hand and raised an eyebrow. “Even so, I bet you’d be smarter than most.”

She shrugged, picking at the corners absently. “There are different kinds of intelligence.” Her eyes narrowed again as she zeroed in on a particularly appalling cover with a… _flexible_ woman. “None of which are required to produce these, apparently.”

Bellamy snorted. “Got that right.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles like he was preparing for battle. “Alright, princess. Let’s do this.”

After much debate, they decided on a bizarre romantic mystery that took place on a cruise ship - in keeping with the travel theme, and all. Plus, he figured his sister would appreciate it if there was a murder involved at least. He bought and paid for the book while Clarke stood aside and tried not to snigger at the curious looks the cashier kept throwing at him.

“She was totally checking you out,” Clarke informed him afterwards. They were lingering on the sidewalk outside the store, despite the large group of clouds that was clearly signaling an oncoming rain shower. 

“Is that so?” Bellamy looked like he wanted to smile. “I hope it wasn’t the book that did it. I’d never be able to tell our kids that’s how we met.” 

Clarke giggled. It was kind of unfair of him to be so charming and good-looking all at once. Bellamy was studying her closely, apparently thinking very hard about something, if the crease in his forehead was any indication. Coming to a conclusion, he stepped closer.

“Besides, I didn’t really notice.” He took her hand and linked their fingers together, sending her heart into a tizzy. “I was pretty distracted myself.” 

"Oh yeah?" She was kind of having fun being coy. "By what, exactly?"

Without warning, Bellamy tugged her close and curled his arm around her waist. Her hands automatically flew to his chest as she stared up at him. "You see," he whispered conspiratorially, "there's this princess who I've been checking out for days on end who finally gave me the time of day today."

"I thought you were checking out the _books,"_ she said, a little breathless. 

"That was the plan. I'd actually given up by the end of the first day, but I kind of wanted to see if you'd show up the next day, and then you kept coming back," he shrugged and smiled, eyes crinkling. "So I did, too."

Grinning, Clarke slid her arms up to link around his neck. "Is that your roundabout way of asking me out?"

"Maybe. Are you saying yes?"

"Maybe," she replied cheekily.

Bellamy chuckled warmly. "Looks like you've got yourself a date, princess."

“And I didn’t even have to remove any clothes to do it,” she teased back without thinking. A second later, she put a hand to her mouth, her face heating with a fury until she was the same color as her shoes. Had she really just said that? 

The grin that unfurled on Bellamy’s face was slow and devastating. Her toes curled on the spot. 

_Oops._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized all of these unintentionally became Clarke’s POV - would anyone be interested in more of these from Bellamy’s POV? Or for a redux of any of the previous 3 from his POV? Let me know :)


	4. Pot Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This flower pot fell off the ledge of my window and knocked you out. I hope you still look adorable when you wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a week! Switched this one around a bit to make it Bellamy POV. This was so much fun. Happy almost-Friday everyone. Hope you enjoy!

Bellamy woke to a pounding in his skull and a large tongue slobbering all over his cheek. Try as he might, he could not figure out the cause of the former; the latter, however, was staring him in the face, bright-eyed and eager, tail thumping happily on the floor.

“Well hello buddy,” he murmured. Shifting his head on the pillow - _pillow? how?_ \- he reached out a long arm to pet the huge dog, who promptly sat down on the spot, tongue lolling out as he got scratched behind the ear. “Like that, huh?” Bellamy grinned and continued.

He - okay, he wasn’t sure how he knew it was a _he,_ but he was pretty damn sure - was a beautiful creature, his thick black fur splashed with orange across his snout and along his legs. A streak of white stretched down his chest and over his belly. Somewhere in his addled mind, he thought he remembered Octavia excitedly telling him about Bernese mountain dogs and wondered if it was possible he’d just found one.

His eyes wandered around the room as he tried to get his bearings. Currently, he was stretched out on a couch, his feet hanging off the opposite arm. He was still in his heavy coat thanks to the November cold, but his scarf had been removed and was hanging off a hook by the door.

The walls were covered in artwork. Some of it was abstract, swirls and streaks of warm, rich colors; other pieces were landscapes, of seemingly everywhere and anywhere. Still idly rubbing the dog’s head, Bellamy was at a loss to remember how he’d gotten here. All he remembered was leaving the bakery, pies in hand, strolling down the sidewalk, and then--

“You’re awake!” 

There was a clatter of footsteps behind him, and then long blonde hair eclipsed his vision, framing a set of clear blue eyes that were currently widened in concern. Even in her simple long-sleeved shirt and jeans, she managed to make his mouth go dry. She nudged the dog aside to kneel next to him, framing his head in her hands. 

“Any problems with your sight? Hearing? What day is it?”

 _You’re beautiful._ “November 25. Thursday,” he managed.

“Good,” she said, satisfied. “What’s your name?”

“Bellamy.”

She frowned suddenly. “Damn. I wish I knew if that was right or not.”

He chuckled, instantly charmed by her pout. That made her lips curve up into a smile instead, and okay-- _wow._

He held out the hand that wasn’t patting her dog. “Bellamy Blake,” he said more firmly. “I live over on Logan Street, 1621, Apartment 3F. Scout’s honor.”

The girl’s grin widened. “Somehow I can totally imagine you as a boy scout.” She put her hand in his. “Hi Bellamy.” Oh, damn, he liked the sound of his name coming from her mouth far too much. “I’m Clarke.”

Bellamy laughed, holding on maybe a little too long. “Hi, Clarke,” he said softly.

“Hi,” she whispered. “Sorry for giving you such a nasty bump on the head. I usually make a better first impression.”

“Dunno, I think you’re doing pretty well,” he replied without thinking. Clarke started and then looked at her lap, a blush working its way onto her cheeks. Smiling lightly, he squeezed her hand, waiting for her to look up. “Mind filling me in the details? I’m kind of at a loss.”

“Oh. Right.” She cleared her throat, embarrassed. “Well, you see, I’d just stepped out onto my tiny balcony for some fresh air - the oven was giving off some strange smell, I don’t even know-- Anyways. I was out there with Raja here,” she patted the dog, “and he heard someone in the hall and started barking. I grabbed his collar, trying to hold him back, and I backed up into the potted plants on the sill and…” She shrugged. “You were out like a light.”

Bellamy stared in disbelief. “Seriously? A _plant_ knocked me out?” 

“Afraid so.” Clarke grinned. “The wonders of gravity.”

He groaned and shook his head. He wasn’t mad, not by a long shot, just highly amused at the turn of events. “What were you even doing with plants out this time of year?” 

She tucked some of her long hair behind an ear in an endearingly nervous gesture. “I totally forgot it was out there,” she admitted. “I was trying to grow these mint leaves the way my dad does… he puts them in his tea. The smell just reminded me of him.” The way she shrugged was a little too casual, and he could see her throat bob as she got herself together. “Anyways, I failed horribly. It used to be by the window, but then I went out there to put in new soil and then Raja distracted me..." She shrugged. "The pot just kind of got left out there after that. I never imagined it could prove so dangerous.”

Bellamy chuckled at her obvious distress. She was adorable. Raja picked that moment to snuggle under his arm, nuzzling into his coat. “Hey buddy.” He stroked the dog’s silky fur. “Is he a Bernese mountain dog?” he asked her. Clarke’s eyes lit up and she nodded.

“Most people don’t get that on the first try.”

“My sister loves dogs. Ever since we were little I’ve been educated on just about every breed there is.” He rubbed Raja’s head, smiling at his low purr. “You’re a good one, protecting your owner so well.”

She sighed and fondly threw an arm around the big dog. “Raja’s my best friend,” she said softly. “Poor guy’s still getting used to it here.”

“You new on the block then?”

“More like new in the city. Just moved here for my last rotation.” At his curious glance, she added, “I’m in medical school.”

“Wow,” he murmured. “Lucky me, having a doctor to patch me up.”

There was the pink again, smudged across her skin. “Not a doctor yet. Eight weeks to go.”

“Close enough.” 

She smiled, and his heart flipped a few times. “Anyways, sorry again, about all this. Here,” she reached over and handed him a cold pack. “Keep that on your head for a bit longer. Please,” she requested when he opened his mouth. “For my sanity?”

Nodding, he accepted it and placed it on his skin, then looked at her in confusion. “Why is my skin so cold already?”

“Oh. Well, I, um… when you were--” she stammered for a moment, flushed. “I put it there for a while, in the beginning. I was just so worried…” Trailing off, she chewed on a thumbnail. Bellamy had to smile at her concern. It was awfully sweet. 

“Trust me, I have a pretty thick skull,” he told her. “It’ll take a lot more than a plant to hurt me. My ego, on the other hand…”

Clarke giggled and raised a hand, palm up. “I’ll never tell. Scout’s honor.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Oh yeah. You were definitely a Brownie.”

She grinned back, pleased. Raja had wormed his way between her legs, and so now he was contentedly laying against the couch, being showered with attention from two directions and loving every second of it.

“How’d you even get me up here?” Bellamy asked after a minute.

“One of my neighbors, and another guy from the coffee shop next door, they both saw it happen, volunteered to help.”

“Damn. Here I was hoping there were no witnesses.” 

As she giggled, a door slammed in the hallway. Raja growled lowly, trying to stand. Clarke already had a firm hand splayed on his chest. “No,” she ordered sternly. After a moment, he flopped back down, though his eyes stayed trained on the door.

“Sorry,” she said meekly. “He’s still adjusting. Though believe it or not, he’s doing a lot better than me.”

The trace of sadness in her voice made him want to comfort her. “First holiday in a new city. That’s rough,” he said.

She nodded, absently tracing the wristband of her watch. “It’s not like I had a ton of friends or anything back home, but… just one or two, that I was really close to. That and my dad. I miss him the most.”

“I can understand that. I can’t imagine moving away from my sister, not more than an hour or two at least.”

“Is her name Octavia?” Clarke asked abruptly.

His eyebrows scrunched together. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

Clarke smiled as if coming to a conclusion. “The name on the receipt taped to the pie boxes. It said Octavia Woodley,” she explained.

“That’s her married name. Still gets me every time,” he admitted, and she grinned back.

“I saved them, you know,” she said. “The pies. They’re in the fridge. No harm done.”

“Thank god. O would have killed me herself,” he muttered. “Seriously, I have one responsibility every Thanksgiving, and it’s to pick up the pies from Delilah’s Bakery. I can’t screw that up.”

“Well then I’m doubly glad I saved them.”

Watching her laugh, Bellamy made an impulsive decision. “You should come with me,” he blurted out. That made Clarke pause in surprise.

“Wh-what?” 

“Come with me,” he repeated. “To Thanksgiving dinner. I mean, you don’t have plans, do you?” Hesitantly, she shook her head. “Good,” he said. “Then you’ll come. Bring Raja too. O’s building has a ton of pets. She adores dogs, trust me, it’ll be love at first sight.”

Clarke stuttered. “I… uh, that’s really kind, Bellamy, but I don’t want to intrude-”

“Nonsense.” Sitting up, he swung his legs to the floor. Clarke immediately put her hands on his knees, as if to protest him standing. So he covered her hands with his. “Come on, I promise, it’ll be fun. There’s gonna be a ton of food and drinks, and we’ve already invited others. It’s not some exclusive thing, trust me. They’re all strays,” he grinned.

Clarke chewed her lip in thought, her gaze focused on their joined hands for a long moment.

Leaning forward, Bellamy joked, “Besides, you never know, I might need a doctor to make sure I don’t faint on the way there.” Grinning, he swayed a little too heavily in her direction, making her throw her arms out to support him. With a rising blush, she pulled back but didn’t move otherwise. 

“What do you think, Raja?” She murmured. 

_Please, please, please I will buy you all the dog treats man has to offer--_

Raja barked and butted his face into Bellamy’s stomach. “Good boy,” he whispered, making sure she heard.

Shyly, Clarke smiled. “I guess I have no choice, huh?”

Bellamy shook his head. “Afraid not. You’re stuck with me now, blondie.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t call me that.”

“Fair enough.” He winked. “I’m sure we’ll find you a nickname soon enough.”

~~~~~~~~

He did, about half a block later when Raja decided that chasing an orange fluffball of a cat was a better use of his time and nearly dragged Clarke through the street with him. 

“Sorry,” Clarke called to the cat’s owner. “He’s kind of protective.” To Bellamy, she whispered, "When he was a puppy, he bit my ex's ass. Tore half his pants off. Pretty much earned his name at that point." 

It hit him at once even as he grasped Raja’s leash to help her out. “Oh my god,” he said gleefully. _“Raja_ like from Aladdin?”

“Uh…” When Clarke’s face turned the same color as her cheery red hat, he beamed and took Raja’s leash from her, curling his free hand around hers.

“Oh yeah, I like princess much better than blondie,” Bellamy grinned.

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t let go of his hand the entire way.


	5. Picture This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m the photographer for this big fancy wedding so I’m going around and snapping pictures of everyone and oh wow you are so incredibly otherworldly in your beauty/handsomeness and oops turns out I end up taking more pictures of you than the happy couple” AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble shmabble. That didn't last long XD Still working on the follow-up to ch 4, but in the meantime hope you enjoy this! :)

Clarke has been to _a lot_ of weddings by the age of 25. And it’s not so much because she has that many girlfriends - she doesn’t, not by a long shot - but simply by the nature of her work. There are some things that are always the same - endless tears from the bridal party, at least one bawdy joke at the reception, a blessedly open and well-stocked bar. 

Yet every time she and her dad show up, cameras slung around their neck and pointed at the ready to snap as many candid shots as possible, she almost always stops when the bride enters.

But it’s not because she’s watching her. Clarke's lens is trained on the person waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

For Clarke, there’s nothing better than that first look of elation, that first expression of _this is really happening_ followed by _I fucking love my life._ It’s the look of wonder that always makes her heart soar, it’s that look that she always makes it a point to capture on film, a quietly intimate moment that’s only for the couple to savor. Their friends and family can _oohh_ and _ahh_ over the usual pictures, but this one - this one’s just for them.

Today’s wedding is on a wonderfully sunny afternoon in August, one of those rare days where the temperature isn’t too hot or too cold, but just right. _Not unlike Goldilocks’ pudding,_ she thinks wryly. She chose one of her favorite dresses for this wedding, inspired by the lack of fussiness she saw on the invitation. It’s a navy blue strapless number that hugs her torso, then falls gently past her knees, a small band of rhinestones around the waist. The slightest hint of tulle peeks out the hem, giving it that bit of romance she can’t help but want for herself.

She and her dad are early, as usual, and having announced themselves as the duo from Ark Photography, they’re immediately let into the small church where the bride and groom are respectively getting ready. They split up, her dad headed for the groom's side while Clarke goes in search of the bride. The wedding itself is going to be behind the church, in a gorgeous meadow where rows of chairs are set up and a small arch is being put up to serve as the altar. It’s sweet and simple, and Clarke can already tell she’ll remember this one for a long time.

She’s carrying her heels in one hand a tripod in the other, her camera around her neck, padding barefoot through the halls when she turns the corner and runs smack into a broad chest.

“Whoa!” A pair of arms immediately enfolds her waist, and seeing as she has one of two choices, she decides to drop the shoes and cling to his tie with her free hand, holding the tripod for dear life and hoping she doesn’t accidentally hit him in the process. They sway on the spot for a moment, her face buried his shirt as she prays she won’t tip them both over. Once she’s sure she’s not going to fall, she lifts her head from his crisp white shirt and looks up. 

_Oh. God. Hi._

Tousled dark curls the color of midnight drop over his forehead, stopping just short of his eyes, twin pools she thinks she might drown in. High cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass, and a full, plump set of lips all add to the ridiculously handsome picture he makes. Unwittingly, her mouth drops open. She wants to draw him, kiss him, snap his picture, and take him home. Rinse and repeat.

Flushing at her thoughts, Clarke immediately takes a shaky step back, shaking her loose hair out to hopefully hide her bright cheeks. The man in front of her looks similarly dazed, his gaze wandering over her freely, sending the best kind of shivers crawling down her spine. His mouth curls when he catches sight of her bare feet.

He’s stunning. And she’s utterly screwed.

“Sorry about that.” He breaks the silence in a deep baritone that gives her goosebumps. “You alright, Miss…?”

It takes her several seconds to realize he’s waiting for her to introduce herself. “Clarke,” she blurts out. “Just Clarke.”

“Hi Just Clarke,” he grins and picks up her heels from the floor, holding out his other hand in greeting. “I’m Bellamy Blake, brother of the bride.”

 _Thank god you’re not the groom,_ is her first thought.

“Hi Bellamy.” His grip is warm and comforting. “Congratulations,” she adds automatically, though she really means it this time. 

“Thank you.” Handing back her shoes, Bellamy shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on the balls of his feet. "So I’m guessing you’re from Ark Photography, huh?”

“Yep. I was trying to find the bridal dressing room. This place is huge.”

He chuckles knowingly. “Yeah, I know. Was it Marilyn who gave you directions?” At her nod, his grin widens. “In that case, I’m impressed you didn’t end up in the coat closet.”

She laughs, more loudly than she’s used to - partly out of surprise and partly because he’s just so damn charming. Bellamy holds out his arm, bent at the elbow. “I’m on my way there now, if you’ll allow me.”

“Oh. Sure, thank you.” Suddenly shy, she takes his offered arm and they stroll slowly down the hall, pausing now and then to let her adjust her grip on the tripod. He doesn’t offer to help, seemingly knowing that she’d ask if she really needed it. Clarke appreciates that. Despite the fact that the tripod is taller than her at times, she isn’t as helpless as she looks on first sight. 

“Not a fan of heels, huh?” Bellamy asks with a grin.

Embarrassed, she shakes her head. “I usually have a pair of flats in the trunk of my car, but I rode with my dad today since mine’s in the shop. Totally forgot until we arrived. And," she adds, "my feet haven’t quite recovered from last weekend’s wedding.”

Bellamy takes a closer look, wincing in sympathy at the bandaids covering her toes. “Ouch. Tough break.”

“Yeah. Piece of advice, don’t offer to dance with a kid unless you’re ready to accept all their friends too.”

His laugh rings out in the empty hall and into her heart. “Noted.” Then he leans closer, stealing her breath all over again. “Tell you what, I promise not to step on your toes when we dance.”

“I didn’t say I’d dance with you.”

Bellamy’s eyes twinkle. “Not yet.”

Female voices reach her ears quicker than she’d like, and she reluctantly lets go of Bellamy’s arm as he holds the door open for her.

“Hey O, look who I found- _oof!”_

Clarke steps to the side just as a brunette launches herself at Bellamy with a screech, seemingly mindless of her pristine dress. Bellamy only laughs loudly and wraps his arms around her waist, spinning her in a circle and noisily kissing her cheek, then more gently, her forehead. The girl’s bare feet make Clarke smile.

Then he steps back, still holding her hands. “Look at you,” he murmurs fondly. “All grown up.”

The bride - his sister - wags a finger in his face. “Remember the rules, Bell. You are _not_ allowed to make me cry before this shindig has even started.”

Unfazed, Bellamy kisses her fingertip, then slings an arm around her shoulders and turns to Clarke. “Clarke, meet the leader of this _shindig,_ my sister Octavia. O, this is your photographer, Clarke.”

Clarke holds out a hand, only to be swept into a hug. Hesitantly, she pats the other girl’s back while Bellamy looks on with a grin. Glancing around the room, she notes the lack of people, just two girls and an older woman who can only be the bride’s mother. Once Octavia lets go, she’s quickly introduced to Monroe and Harper, the two bridesmaids who wear dresses of a bright plum purple. The fabric swishes at their knees as they step forward.

“Better for dancing,” Harper winks, and Clarke grins and holds up her camera as the girls throw silly poses, Octavia the goofiest of all.

Her dress is subtle and unembellished. The fabric is almost cream-colored, a few ruffles on the bodice that narrows at the waist before poofing out into a skirt that ends at her knees. There are thin straps at her shoulders, two on each side, that criss-cross over the expanse of her back. It's at once elegant and fun and entirely fitting for her, Clarke thinks.

“My shoes are my something blue,” Octavia explains as she snaps pictures. “Mom loaned me her barrette.” The hair pin is dotted with small pearls, simple and elegant where it pulls her hair into a partial updo. The veil attaches atop that, floating down over the rest of the loose waves that tumble over her shoulders.

As she sits on a chair to tuck her feet into strappy blue heels, Clarke pauses and finds Bellamy leaning against the wall, watching them with a faint smile. His eyes catch hers, and hold, and she finds herself blushing for no reason.

Clearing her throat, she asks the girls, “Which one of you is the Maid of Honor?” When they all laugh in reply, her brow furrows in confusion, unsure of where she misstepped.

But then Octavia stands, several inches higher now thanks to the heels, and twists her towards Bellamy, whose look has turned sheepish. “Bell’s my Man of Honor,” she says happily, and it’s Clarke’s turn to giggle.

He shrugs on his black suit jacket at Octavia’s request, and Clarke has to swallow multiple times to work moisture back into her throat because _holy hell,_ that’s just not fair at all. She thinks she’s managed to be inconspicuous about it - until Octavia sidles up to her and slyly asks her to help Bellamy with his collar.

“Sorry?” She squeaks out, but she’s already being pushed over. Trying not to pay attention to the way his jacket snugly frames his broad shoulders, she focuses instead on the fact that he does seem to be struggling somewhat. Smiling a little, she hangs the camera around her neck before coming to stand in front of him. “Here,” she says softly, and knocks his hands away. 

Meekly, he lowers his arms, and now he’s just looking at her instead, and she’s determinedly _not_ looking at him, at the crease in his chin or the way his muscles shift under his clothes or how his thick black hair deserves to be mussed up by her fingers. She smooths down his collar and straightens his crooked tie, smartly snapping his jacket in the front. One of his hands is resting on her waist by the time she's done - not moving or doing anything, just _there,_ and the weight of it is enough for her knees to get a little weak.

He proudly stands for her all her pictures, his deep gaze seeming to pierce right through the lens and into her while his sister grins gleefully beside him, to the point that Clarke’s thankful for the camera hiding the majority of her face. 

They’re soon interrupted by two boys who walk in with their hands over each other’s eyes and identical mischievous grins.

“Excuse me,” the gangly one declares, overly formal, “we are looking for the blushing bride, has anyone seen her?”

“I’ll give you something to blush about,” Octavia threatens, then grabs them both in a long hug, laughing. Turning to Clarke, she makes quick introductions. “Monty, Jas, this is our photographer, Clarke. Clarke, this is the rest of my bridal party, Monty Green and Jasper Jordan. Monty’s also my DJ.”

They both give sweeping bows and she grins when Octavia cuffs them each on the head goodnaturedly. Then Jasper glances at Bellamy with a quick nod, revealing a small box from his pocket.

“Hey O,” Bellamy clears his throat and beckons her closer. “Here’s your something new. We all pitched in.” Jasper opens the box to reveal a slim silver bracelet adorned with the occasional tiny charm and studded with rubies that wink under the lights, matching the flash of red in her ears. 

_”You guys…”_ Octavia tries to sound exasperated but it comes out as a sniffle instead. When her voice gives out she just tosses her arms around all three of them combined, and even Clarke has to pause to brush at her eyes before she can continue. Bellamy snaps the bracelet onto Octavia’s wrist after she finally lets go, and then she proceeds to berate them all for making her have to redo her makeup.

With the group’s antics, the time passes more quickly than she expected, and her camera is already filled with twice as many photos as usual by the point that it’s time for Octavia’s mom to give her away. Clarke finishes taking the final pictures of Octavia and her mother as they pull the veil over her face. 

With one final, tight hug, Bellamy prepares to leave with a wide grin. “Man of Honor needs to get ready for his glamor shot.” 

“Shut up and help our gorgeous photographer out there,” Octavia chirps back, and Clarke feels her cheeks overheat.

“That’s not nec-”

But Bellamy’s already taken her arm again like before, and her fingers have curled around his elbow without her brain’s permission, and it feels nice and simple and homey, so she leaves them there.

“I’m surprised you’re not giving her away,” she tells him.

“Honestly, I debated it for a long time. O said she didn’t mind who it was as long as it was me or mom, but…” He rubs his neck and finally grins. “I kind of really want to see her walk down the aisle, you know?”

Clarke grins back, nodding. When they reach the small path heading to the meadow, she pauses. “Can you hold this for a sec?” She gives him her camera, then begins to tug on her heels one by one, hopping on the spot rather ungracefully. Bellamy stands solid as a pillar, cradling the camera as carefully as if it were a child. She adjusts the final strap and rises, a bit wobbly at first, but when Bellamy’s eyes find hers she has to look away or she’s going to trip over for an entirely different reason. There’s an almost cheeky grin adorning his face as she stammers out a weak “thank you” and hurries away. She settles in behind the guests, wanting to be in what she’s deemed as ‘her spot’ before the others start down the aisle. 

Clarke snaps the other requisite pictures, bouncing impatiently on her feet until she sees Octavia arrive. Immediately, her head snaps to the front - to Lincoln, the groom. And yet, within seconds, her gaze becomes trapped between Lincoln and Bellamy.

While Lincoln is full on doe-eyed and in love, Bellamy’s expression is wistful, full of such joy for his sister that it seems to radiate from his whole body. Clarke finds her finger pressing down repeatedly, snapping picture after picture almost mindlessly - until midway through she realizes his gaze has shifted, and now he’s looking directly at the camera. At her.

Ever so slowly, she lifts her head to peer overtop the lens. Bellamy keeps staring, not hiding it one bit. The smile he wears is different than a moment ago, but no less bright, and she stands frozen on the spot, wondering if he can hear the wild thump of her heart.

The rest of the ceremony passes in somewhat of a daze for her. She knows she’s taking pictures like she should, but there’s a strange tickle on her neck and her stomach is fluttering like _she’s_ the one getting married and it’s all she can do to concentrate through the lens of her camera-- even if it finds amused dark eyes and gorgeous olive skin a little too often.

After the ceremony, the space quickly transforms into an outdoor reception. Clarke’s relieved to find everyone mingling to the point that the crowd of bodies easily takes over her pictures, hopefully making up for how many times the Man of Honor made his way into a shot. Continuing her wonderfully atypical streak, Octavia has foregone a formal reception in favor of just dancing and drinking all at once. 

“I don’t want to hear about how much you all love me,” she announces to many hoots and hollers. “If you love me, you’ll _dance!”_ She yells, and proceeds to pull Lincoln onto the small floor. Within seconds, they’re joined by others, and Clarke finds herself laughing at the many wiggling hips and crazy jazz hands.

It’s not long before she feels a familiar presence at her shoulder, though she refuses to turn right away. Instead, she flips through a few recent pictures on her camera. Bellamy’s breath fans her shoulder as he leans closer to take a look. 

“Wow,” he murmurs. “O was right to choose you guys. You’re incredibly talented.” 

The words are genuine, and finally she peeks up to meet his warm smile. “Thank you. This is a great ceremony. I mean it. It’s one of my favorites by far.”

He grins. “I’m guessing you’ve been to a lot of these, huh?” 

“Yeah, dad and I have been crashing weddings for years now,” she jokes. “Though you wouldn’t know it the way he is. It’s like he’s not even there. Half the time people think I’m the only photographer. Though, that’s part of the charm I suppose.”

“You are very charming,” Bellamy agrees with a nudge, and she blushes, shaking her head. 

He’s removed his jacket again, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his tie loosened once more. He looks like he just stepped out of a GQ photo shoot. Judging by the glances of several other wedding guests, she’s not the only one who’s noticed.

But Bellamy doesn’t seem to care, instead taking the camera from her and gently hanging the strap over her neck. “I think you promised me a dance,” he says, and her pulse begins to trip uncontrollably. The protest dies in her throat when he takes her hand. 

A little too conveniently, the energetic song ends, giving way to a considerably slower one. Clarke looks around with narrowed eyes, finding Octavia whispering into the Monty’s ear with a huge grin on her face. _Oh, god._ Her cheeks warm up as she ducks her head. Bellamy reads her face in an instant and chuckles, sliding an arm around her waist to pull her close.

“Yeah, my sister’s not one for subtlety,” he says into her ear. Then, more tentatively: “Is this okay?”

Clarke sighs and allows herself to relax, leaning into him a little and splaying one hand on his back. Her cheek comes to rest on his shoulder. “Yeah,” she whispers. “It’s okay.”

Bellamy links their fingers together, and they sway in a circle amongst the other couples. The song ends, and another begins, just as slow, and Clarke smiles into his shirt but doesn’t let go. Neither does he. His sister is sneaky, but she can’t say she minds all that much. When Bellamy’s hand begins to trace light circles on the skin of her back between her shoulder blades, her limbs turn to jelly.

They finally draw apart after the third song, though they’re still standing extremely close. She’s loose-limbed and a little giddy, and the smile Bellamy sends her is like a sunbeam. 

Suddenly there’s the sound of a camera shutter, and the flash goes off once, twice. They both turn, startled, and Clarke gulps. “Hey dad. I- sorry, I was just-”

“It’s my fault,” Bellamy cuts in quickly. “She’s been working so hard all afternoon, I just wanted to give her a break.”

Her dad is smiling, though, and waves a hand in dismissal. “Are you kidding? Clarke always dances at weddings. I’m just thrilled its with someone her own age this time.”

“It’s not my fault the kids are always more interesting than the adults,” she grumbles. Bellamy’s shoulders shake in a silent laugh.

Then Octavia pops up out of nowhere, holding her phone up in front of them and snapping photos before they’ve even fully turned her way. “Smile!” She says belatedly.

“Come on, O,” Bellamy groans. “That’s not fair, we weren’t even paying attention.” 

“Fine fine, come on.” She waves at them to get closer.

Bellamy leaves his arm around her shoulder and Clarke snuggles in just a little. Her dad joins Octavia, holding up his own camera. After the loud _click,_ she feels Bellamy lean down. Assuming he has a question, she turns her head only to have his lips land on hers. She feels his slight shock, the briefest moment of _oh shit,_ but it's her who presses closer, her who curls her fingers into his tie to keep him there. With a small sigh, Bellamy gives in and cups her cheek, slanting his mouth over hers, and _oh_ now her knees are definitely not going to hold her up so it’s a good thing his arm is around her.

The kiss is rather chaste for all the sparks that are flying through her body, and yet when it’s over she has half a mind to grab his tie and yank him down all over again or potentially drag him to a nearby car. As if reading her thoughts, an exuberant grin curls his mouth.

Octavia’s loud cheer brings them back to reality. Wide-eyed, Clarke looks over to find her dad high-fiving the bride. 

“Nice work, Mr. G! We make a good team,” the brunette declares triumphantly. Waving her phone, Octavia blows them a kiss. “Now you have it on camera, too. Twice.” She winks and skips away.

Clarke stares open-mouthed while Bellamy mutters something like _brat_ under his breath. Her dad ruffles her hair with an affectionate grin, then shakes Bellamy's hand. "Look forward to seeing you around," he says, and slides away, his camera already coming up to freeze another moment in time.

Peeking at each other, they smile, then begin to laugh. 

~~~~~~~~

Bellamy frames the picture, like the complete nerd she comes to realize he is, and puts it on his desk at work and on the kitchen counter in the apartment they come to share nearly a year later. To this day, Clarke can’t believe their first kiss was caught on camera, but she also can’t help her foolish grin when she thinks of all the kisses that followed.


	6. Strays and Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Ch 4 (Pot Luck) - Bellamy takes Clarke to Thanksgiving dinner at his sister’s apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It probably makes sense to read Ch4 first, but the short story is: A pot from Clarke's balcony happens to land on Bellamy's head, and while he's recovering he ends up asking her to come to Thanksgiving dinner at his sister's place.  
> I got a few requests for a follow up and couldn't resist. It was was too much fun as usual :) Hope you enjoy!!

Bellamy held the door open with his foot, allowing Clarke to head inside the building first. It was the only time he’d let go of her hand during the trip, and so the minute they were inside he rectified that by linking their fingers again. It was almost silly how much he liked simply _holding her hand_ \- but it reassured him that Clarke seemed to like it too. 

As they waited for the elevator, Raja sniffed at the the bag in her other hand. With a grin, she held it away, careful not to jostle the pie boxes inside. “Not for you,” she warned.

“Is he allowed to eat any human food, or does it upset his stomach?” He asked curiously.

She was shaking her head before he finished the question. “Not if I can help it. He almost died when he got into a box of chocolates my friend left on the counter once. I was terrified.” She shook her head to clear the memory, then smiled when Raja butted her leg softly, almost in apology. “He’s too nosy for his own good.”

“I’m sure he’s learned his lesson.” Bellamy squeezed her hand a little. “All the same, I’ll make sure to fend off the others if they come near him with leftovers.”

She beamed, momentarily dazzling him. “Thank you.”

When the elevator _dinged_ to announce its arrival, they crowded in. It was so small that Bellamy had to reach around Clarke to hit the button for the 5th floor - though, he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy being so close to her. She picked that moment to peek up through her lashes, and he was suddenly captivated by her shy smile. His arm remained dangling over her shoulder, and when she didn’t protest, he found himself leaning down.

His lips were inches from hers, registering the faint scent of coffee, when the doors slid open.

Startled, they pulled apart. Whereas Clarke looked a little dazed, he was just cursing his luck. _Just one more freaking second…_

Raja was already tugging them out into the hall, his snout eagerly in the air as he took in the scent of food coming from various apartments. Chuckling ruefully, Bellamy took Clarke’s hand again, reassured when her fingers wrapped around his, and led them down the hall to room 503. He rapped on the door in quick succession.

“O, it’s me,” he called. Clarke shifted next to him as footsteps sounded on the other side. “Hey princess,” he murmured, “you can stick with me, okay?” She smiled gratefully just as the door opened. Raja barked his hello, tail wagging furiously.

Octavia’s greeting - or scolding, more likely - got stuck in her throat as soon as she laid eyes on Raja. Her mouth dropped open as she sank to her knees, holding her arms out wide. “Hello stranger,” she folded her arms around him in a hug as if they were long-lost friends. “Aren’t you a beauty?”

Bellamy grinned and winked at Clarke, who was growing more amused by the second.

“Should I leave you two alone?” He asked.

Octavia didn’t hear, or didn’t care, holding on for a good minute, her nose buried deep in his thick fur. Raja happily accepted the attention, licking her cheek. Finally she opened her eyes but didn’t let go quite yet. 

“I’m Octavia, nice to meet you. Is he yours?”

It took Clarke a moment to realize the question was for her. “Yeah, he’s all mine. I’m Clarke. His name is Raja.” 

“Like from Aladdin!?” Clarke flushed again but nodded. “Oh, we’re going to be great friends,” Octavia declared, getting to her feet. “Come on in, Raja,” she cooed. 

As soon as they’d stepped inside, his sister punched his arm. “And where the hell have you been? I was getting worried!”

“Yeah right, you just wanted your pies,” he retorted. When she stuck out her tongue, he ruffled her hair with a short laugh. “I was bringing you a surprise, see?” 

Clarke held out the bag in her hand. “Here they are, safe and sound. I’m afraid I’m the reason your brother’s late. Sorry,” she added meekly.

Octavia waved a hand, already over it. “I really did just want the pies. No worries,” she grinned easily. “Besides, it’s totally forgivable seeing as I get to meet Bell’s girlfriend!”

 _Aw, hell._ That had totally been on purpose. She knew all too well that Clarke was _not_ his girlfriend, just like she knew every detail of his sorry love life, but she’d decided this was the prime moment to take up her bratty little sister mantle.

“Clarke and I met on the way here,” he interrupted. Smiling down at the blonde, he added, “She saved your pies from ruin.” Not everyone needed to know the flower pot story just yet.

Clarke smiled back in relief. “They’re all intact,” she promised Octavia. “I triple-checked-- _Raja!”_

Sheepishly, the dog backed away from where he’d been poking around an open cabinet next to Lincoln. Raja approached Clarke with his tail hanging between his legs, the picture of innocence, and Bellamy had to stifle a laugh. She knelt to remove his leash, gently scolding him all the while before letting him wander off again.

“Sorry,” she said, rising. “I just have to keep an eye on what he eats.”

“Oh of course!” Octavia jumped in excitedly. “Don’t worry, we won’t feed him anything, I know all about Bernese mountain dogs, do you have to buy that special brand of dog food? There’s this place on Cherry Street that has awesome discounts, I know I have these coupons somewhere…” 

She dragged Clarke into the living room, still chattering away. Bellamy followed with a chuckle. Everyone else was already there, and so in the brief moment that Octavia halted to take a breath, he made the introductions. Monty and Miller were quick to offer Clarke a drink, and Jasper and Maya waved from where they were sharing the armchair. Settling on the couch, Octavia pulled Clarke to sit beside her. 

“Everything smells amazing,” Clarke said graciously. “Do you cook every year?” At the resulting snorts from just about everyone, she looked around, puzzled. “Did I say something wrong?”

“It’s okay,” Bellamy said. “You’d have no way of knowing O’s banned from the kitchen after The Lasagna Incident of ‘05.”

“That was _one_ time.” 

“There was also the casserole from ‘07,” Monty added.

“And the cake last Hallow-”

“Shut up you delinquents! Stop sullying my guest’s ears with your tales!” Clarke’s mouth twitched as Octavia mock glared at each and every one of them. Then she rolled her eyes at Clarke. “It’s Lincoln who does all the cooking in this house. He’s a chef at a restaurant in town.” Winking, she added, “There was no way I wasn’t snatching that up in a heartbeat.”

Clarke’s loud laugh seemed to surprise even her, but she sank further into the couch cushions all the same. Bellamy was completely taken by the sound, deciding he wanted to hear it for much longer than just tonight. They all chatted easily, Clarke listening most of the time, but putting thought behind her answers when she did jump in. Now and then her eyes would flit to his, full of gratitude, and he smiled back just as widely from his spot on the floor. Raja, having gladly accepted greetings from all the others, had chosen to slump over his feet, beyond content with life. As he watched Clarke, Bellamy thought he might be able to relate.

She sipped at her gin and tonic rather quickly, he noted. Not just a product of nerves, but in genuine favor of the drink. He catalogued that away in his mind for future use - just one more tidbit he’d learned about the princess in the past couple hours. 

He wanted to know _everything_ about her.

He wanted to know how she took her coffee, what her favorite piece of art was, whether she’d ever been in a snowball fight, if she slept sprawled out or curled in a ball, if her sleepy blue eyes smiled when she woke up. He _wanted,_ more than anything, to be there for all of it.

“Yoo-hoo! Anybody home?” 

A pair of fingers snapped in his face, nearly making him fall backwards. Octavia was grinning wildly as he came out of his Clarke-induced daze. “Thanks for rejoining us, big brother.”

“Sorry,” he croaked, focusing on Raja instead of his owner. “What’s up?”

But Clarke was already up, coming to crouch in front of him. “Is your head okay?” She asked in concern. Her fingers brushed over his hair, gentle but probing. “Do you have a headache still? Problems seeing or--”

“I’m alright princess,” he interrupted. “Scout’s honor.”

“Bellamy-”

“Seriously. I swear.” He reached up and grasped her hand. “I just got lost in my thoughts for a sec. It’s not the first time. Ask the others.”

But when he looked up with a grin, he found the others watching them curiously. Octavia cleared her throat. “Did we miss something?”

Clarke was still staring at their joined hands, but now she let out tiny, embarrassed laugh. “I… uh… see, the way we met was actually not as nice as Bellamy mentioned." Her shoulders hunched, almost as if to brace herself. "Long story short, I... I dropped a flower pot on his head.”

There was a moment of absolute silence. Then the others burst into laughter. Clarke hung her head, sheepish, and Bellamy threw his arm around her without thinking, glaring at his friends. 

Jasper picked up on it first. “Oh hey, Clarke, no,” he protested. “We’re not laughing at you! It’s just… Bellamy seems to practically invite this stuff on himself.” When she peeked up hopefully, he grinned. “I was dangling from a ladder when I met him. It was my first time working with Habitat for Humanity and I’d never done construction in my life. Bellamy was our group lead. Had to save my ass multiple times that day.”

“And many days after,” Bellamy added, feeling Clarke ease a little under his arm.

Maya was next to cut in, her quiet voice floating through the room. “My car broke down in the university parking lot at the end of my first week of teaching. Bellamy stayed until the tow truck arrived, then even offered to drive me around for another two weeks while it got fixed and Jasper was out of town.”

“I almost blew up the chem lab,” Monty added, a little too cheerfully. 

_“Almost_ being the operative word,” Miller grinned. “Because he was trying to teach me a demo so I could redo it for the high schoolers I was subbing for later that day. Bellamy happened to be nearby and helped salvage the situation before word got out.”

Okay, everyone was really turning this into story hour, and it was his turn to be a little embarrassed. In their effort to make Clarke feel better, they were making him uncomfortable with all the praise.

Thankfully, this was why he had a little sister.

“On my first date with Lincoln, big brother decided that he was going to hide behind one of the huge plants in the restaurant,” she announced with glee. Bellamy dropped his face to Clarke’s shoulder with a groan, but her answering peal of laughter was well worth it.

“Let me guess,” Clarke said. “It didn’t work.”

“It was going fine,” he defended, “until I realized there were _things_ in the plant that wanted to feast on me instead.” 

“Can’t blame them,” she muttered, then froze, eyes wide. Bellamy’s mouth dropped open. This time the redness spread far down her neck and under her sweater, and god help him he wanted to see if all of her had turned that shade. 

Thankfully, nobody else appeared to have heard her, continuing to tease each other obliviously.

“See?” Jasper said. “We all have a story like that for how we met him, and now so do you. Although I gotta admit, it's nice to see someone saving him for once.”

Clarke nodded, still looking a bit stunned at herself. Sensing her distress, Raja rose to his full height and nuzzled her side until she was forced to raise her arm and let him flop in her lap. Bellamy squeezed her shoulder, trying to offer silent comfort while he internally tried not to combust with joy.

Lincoln finally declared that dinner was ready, and they all proceeded to sit around the oval table while Raja circled their seats, eagerly awaiting scraps. After the third time he’d made a lap with no luck, Clarke grinned and pulled him down by the collar, whispering a soft “stay.” He laid down on his paws, eyes wide and pleading.

Bellamy chuckled. “He sure knows how to look the part.”

“He’s unfortunately charming like that,” Clarke replied.

“Takes after his owner then,” he said with a wink. Clarke smiled shyly.

The others kept conversation going pretty well, though he was at a loss to remember what any of it was about. All he could do was make more mental notes about the girl beside him - the second helping of mashed potatoes, the briefest excited part of her lips at gravy, the unconscious tap of her left foot on the floor. After she consumed her first piece of pumpkin pie in mere seconds, he cut her a huge second slice, watching her cheeks flush when she noticed his attention.

As they cleaned up, Raja butted at his leg, still begging. Bellamy grinned and leaned down to rub his head. “Poor guy. You must be hungry, huh bud?”

“Yeah, I think I’d better get him home.” Clarke hooked the leash onto his collar and stood reluctantly. She fiddled with his leash a moment longer, shifting from foot to foot. “This was a lot of fun. Thanks for inviting me, Bellamy.”

He was suddenly not at all okay with the night being over. “I’ll walk you back,” he offered.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“But I want to,” he smiled when her lips parted in a silent _o_. “I’m glad you stayed for dinner,” he added.

_“Would you like to stay forever?”_

His sister's yell made him want to faceplant on the spot. With an apologetic glance at Clarke, he held out a middle finger in Octavia's general direction. "You don't have to quote Mulan _every time,_ you know," he called back, hearing her cackle in reply. Clarke was smiling when he turned around.

They said their goodbyes to the others, resulting in Raja getting much more well-deserved love while they pulled on their coats and hats. Lincoln handed Clarke the promised leftovers with a sympathetic smile, only telling her that she was welcome at the restaurant any time. 

Then his brother-in-law looked pointedly at him and added, “You should bring her by soon,” before strolling away.

Bellamy blinked. Well, shit. Someone had been taking lessons from Octavia. He held the door open for Clarke on the way out, taking the bag of leftovers in one hand. She had a firm grip on Raja’s leash, apparently ready for him to bolt at the smell of more food in the hall. Their shoulders brushed as they walked towards the elevators, and it wasn’t long before her hand crept into his. He thought his heart might burst on the spot. 

They stepped into the elevator in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Bellamy was in the midst of giving Raja a good scratch behind the ears when soft lips landed on his cheek, careful but sweet, and he turned to Clarke with his mouth agape. She smiled and shrugged, chewing on her bottom lip.

The elevator doors opened and he followed her outside, still a bit dumbstruck, the spot on his cheek tingling like crazy. 

“Aw man.” Clarke frowned. “It started snowing.”

Distractedly, he glanced outside at the shower of flakes falling from the sky, bright against the darkness. A light dusting already covered the sidewalks. Then he registered the disappointment in her tone.

“You don’t like snow?” He asked in disbelief.

The frown became a pout. “What’s to like? Slippery streets, freezing cold, shoveling sidewalks, hypothermia…” She continued listing various maladies as they headed out the door, and his grin widened as an idea struck.

“Hang on.” He tugged her hand until she stopped, then handed her the bag. “Hold this.” 

“O-okay. Wh-”

Bellamy set his hands on either side of her face and kissed her. There was a tiny gasp against his mouth. But then Clarke tilted her head and leaned into him, and even the gentlest pressure of her lips made his heart race. Purposely, he kept it slow and searching, memorizing every soft sound that escaped her mouth, tasting the remnant of gin and deciding he might have to give it a second shot after all.

When he finally pulled back they were both breathless. Eyes shining, Clarke licked her lips. He groaned, helpless but to dive back in for another long kiss. Uncaring of the items in her hands, her arms slid around his back to pull him close, and he went willingly. Only when something tightened by his knees did he pause, looking down to find himself trapped in the leash as Raja bounded around them in circles, apparently delighted by the snow. Clarke was cradled against his body, unable to move. 

_Good boy,_ he thought, or meant to. When Clarke laughed, he realized he’d said it out loud. It was hard to care with the way she was looking at him. Grinning, he kissed a snowflake that had fallen on her cheek.

“Still don’t like the snow?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” she teased. “I might need some more convincing.”

Bellamy was more than happy to comply.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Always happy to do other prompts for anyone, come find me on tumblr - notmylady :))


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